Lost Oneshots
by Phoebsfan
Summary: A collection of skate oneshots written over the years and posted in random places online. Now compiled in one spot. Not all rated M.
1. Unspeakable

**Unspeakable**

12/6/06  
>Phoebsfan<br>Summary: _It's a fact, everyone she loves leaves her. Everything she touches corrupts and corrodes. It's been this way her entire life. Why should things change now?_ I Do filler  
>Rating: PG-13<br>Disclaimer: Lost and it's characters belong to ABC, J.J. Abrams, and Touchstone.

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><p>She loves him.<p>

It definitely caught her off guard. She wonders when he crept in, when her thoughts of disgust turned into something more powerful and consuming. Looking back though she knows he's owned a part of her for far too long.

It's his fault entirely. He was the one who had to be so much like her, had to see through every front she put up. Had to kiss her, and hold her, and accept her when no one else could possibly understand her.

And now she's going to lose him.

It's a fact, everyone she loves leaves her. Everything she touches corrupts and corrodes. It's been this way her entire life. Why should things change now?

No, she thinks this time she will not let it happen. She will not let death or circumstances beyond them both, take him from her. She will fight it, as she fought these feelings. He has to know she fought him for so many reasons, only one being the fear of losing him.

She can't count the number of times she's resisted touching him, talking to him, being with him because of that fear. How many times she's lied to herself about it.

She's becoming very good at fooling herself, so good that in this situation, she didn't even know she was. She wonders how transparent she's been, and how neither one of them would admit, own up to what they were thinking and feeling. She's seen that look on his face before, wonders how often it's been mirrored on hers.

She loves him.

It's something she just realized. She could blame it on the sex. Could say that it's just the afterglow, all the endorphins in her blood telling her she cares. But she knew before, knew in that instant he pulled her to him and told her why she did the things she did. Let his lips explain to her what she did not want to understand.

It's something she's been questioning for days. When Pickett asked her, it slipped out unexpectedly. It was easier to deny back then, when Sawyer hid from her and bars separated them. Easier to claim that of course she loved him, he was the best friend she had on this island, but that didn't mean she was in love with him. With those barriers between them it was easier to forget her words entirely.

Seeing Jack, should have erased them. Jack was her friend as well, Jack cared too, and he was all alone. She thinks that there should have been room in her heart for him as well. But all she could do was beg for Sawyer's life, all she could think about was what they'd done to Sawyer. How she needed to get back to him. She wonders if Jack could read that as well. Wonders if he was surprised that her tears were not for herself but for someone else.

It may have been the first time in her life when she's cried for someone else.

She told herself afterward that it was for her, that she was just afraid to lose him. But now she sees that those tears started when Jack asked her something that had nothing to do with losing Sawyer. Jack had wanted to know about her. If they'd hurt her. She'd just connected the two.

She supposes they did, whether it was intentional or not she may never know for certain, but she suspects it was. Suspects that every bruise on his body was meant to hurt her just as much. Suspects that they've known how invested she is in him from the beginning. Just as she's seen him eye her wounds, seen that look of defiance and hatred flash through his eyes quickly replaced by concern. She knows that if they hurt her they hurt him. She hasn't been that connected to anyone in a long time.

So long, she's forgotten how it feels.

She finds that every time she thinks about Jack her thoughts wander back to this cage. When she wonders how Jack's doing her thoughts stray to how Sawyer is. If Jack is still angry with her or if his anger has faded like Sawyer's did. When she thinks about Jack it's always in direct correlation to Sawyer, almost as if Jack is just an afterthought. A tag along.

At first she thought that was due to the fact that Sawyer was very much a part of her everyday, where Jack was locked away somewhere unreachable. Thought it was only natural to be concerned with the things in front of her and not think about what she could not see. But she remembers now when Sawyer left her here and how her thoughts were with him the entire time. She also remembers not too long ago when he sailed away on a raft and how even when Jack was with her, her thoughts always strayed to the raft, to the bottle that had washed up on shore.

Those thoughts had been so easy to dismiss as concern for the rescue effort. But even then she wondered why she couldn't ever just focus on what Jack wanted or needed, why Sawyer always seemed to be sitting in the background. Her time with Sawyer was rarely it seemed, interrupted by thoughts of Jack. Only when she was angry with him did she bring Jack into it.

She sees now how foolish she's been, how much time she has wasted punishing both men for something they had no control over. Something she refused to see. And she wishes she could take it all back. Wishes that when he was returned to her the first time, with a hole in his shoulder, that she'd told him. That instead of denying those feelings she clearly understood she was having for him, she'd done something to figure them out.

Wishes that she'd understood whatever she and Jack had could never feel like this.

Because come tomorrow, Pickett will be back, and now there is nowhere to run. She can't run from something that lives inside of her, and though she's tried to in the past she's tired of it. She doesn't want to anymore.

So she sits wrapped in his arms, knowing that she does love him and wishing she could speak the words. Wishing that she could answer with more than a kiss.

All her life she's heard that actions speak louder than words, but this time it doesn't seem like it's enough. Doesn't seem like anything could possibly be enough, but she wants to try.

What he doesn't understand, what no one ever can understand, is that those words are a death sentence. Does she feel them? Yes. Does she want to say them? More than anything in the world. But she won't.

And yes, she is afraid to say them. And yes, this feeling is at times terrifying because it is so overwhelming. But the fear that chokes her, that keeps those words locked deep inside has nothing to do with the way she feels for him. It has nothing to do with the fact that he might not feel the same way or that she doesn't want them to sound trite.

She won't say them because she won't lose him.

She will not lose him.

Because she does love him. Because he's the best damn thing that's happened to her in a long time and it's about time she got something good. Because she knows that she's never in a million lifetimes going to find something else that comes close to this moment.

So though she loves him, he can never know just how much. Her actions will have to tell him, because her words can't. Maybe tomorrow when the threat is less real, maybe when they are back on their beach, maybe months from now or years even, after time has passed enough to disprove her theory.

But until that day, those three words will always mean something else. Something she cannot let touch him. She's sick of saying goodbye, sick to death of losing everything.

Maybe she'll find other words that mean what those three should. She doubts it, worries that if she does those words will turn just as ugly. She wishes she could tell him why she can't tell him, but that too she fears. Thinks it's the same as telling him she loves him, thinks it too will spell goodbye.

At times she worries that even thinking it means he's a goner. But she can't make herself stop thinking it. Doesn't want to. If she can't tell him, she wants to take comfort in knowing it's true. Doesn't want to hide it from herself as well.

So she can only hope that what she can give him will be enough, because she knows if it isn't, none of it will matter anyway.

Loving him is a double edged sword. She could lose him both ways. But she'd rather have him alive hating her for not loving him, then dead. She hopes that it will never come to that, that the danger will have passed before he reaches that point, that the fear will have diminished, and the taint of death that hangs over those words will be erased.

But for now she will not tell him. She cannot tell him.

She will know it, and that will have to be enough.

It's for his own good.


	2. Unsettled

**Unsettled; or Dharma Beer, bringing people together since... well, we can't tell you by Phoebsfan**

Summary: Season 3: What if Kate went back to the beach and shared a few not so cold ones with Sawyer instead of going to free Jack from Otherville?

Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended.

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><p><em>I am a hostage to my own humanity. Self-detained and forced to live in this mess I've made. And all I'm asking is for you to do what you can with me. But I can't ask you to give what you already gave. Cause I've been housing all this doubt and insecurity and I've been locked inside that house; all the while you hold the key. And I've been dying to get out and that might be the death of me. And even though there's no way of knowing where to go, I promise I'm going, because I gotta get out of here I'm stuck inside this rut that I fell into by mistake. I gotta get out of here and I'm begging you. I'm begging you. I'm begging you to be my escape. I fought you for so long, I should have let you in. Oh how we regret those things we do. All I was trying to do was save my own skin, but so were you. So were you.<br>- Relient K- Be My Escape_

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><p>"You can't go right now." He called out after her.<p>

Kate spun around to face Desmond, she'd just left the beach on her way to find Rousseau. Small talk with Desmond was the last thing she had time for.

"Look, I don't really have time for this. Jack needs our help." She spun around and started off again. Daylight was burning and she was pissed at Sawyer, at Locke and Sayid, at herself.

She'd thought that once she'd chosen between the two men in her life things would get easier. Yet here she was, alone and disappointed. Once more leaving her problems behind. She tried to tell herself she wasn't running away. That Sawyer didn't want a relationship with her, that he'd never be able to give her more. The trouble was that his words kept ringing in her ears.

Sawyer may not have wanted her, but James did, and leaving everything so... so... unsettled, made her nervous and jumpy. It made her easily irritated and annoyed. But most of all it just left her with that sick sinking feeling.

"Kate... Wait." Desmond called after her, caught up with her and grabbed her arm.

Wait.

She was tired of waiting. Tired of holding her breath and closing her eyes, hoping for something that seemed impossible. Why couldn't everyone see that sitting around wasn't going to solve any of their problems? It wasn't going to bring Jack back. It wasn't going to soften Sawyer's heart, or remove his insecurity.

Hell, he probably didn't even know she was gone.

"I can't. Not anymore. Jack needs-"

"You need rest. You can't just walk back in there and you know it. You need help if you want this to succeed." Desmond interrupted, his eyes earnest, his face fixed in a serious scowl.

The whole thing was beginning to creep her out. Last she saw this man he was busy ignoring everyone else and getting wasted. The time before that he was running away from responsibility. Now he cared about how exhausted she felt? Who the hell was he anyway? And why in the hell did he think she'd listen to him?

Still... he had a point. One night wouldn't make much of a difference, would it? She could rest and convince the others to help.

Besides it would get dark in a couple of hours and she'd have to stop anyway. She wasn't extremely fond of the idea of spending the night alone in the jungle either, but it was something she was willing to do. Jack needed their help, he saved the man she loved, the least she could do was try to help him.

That was what Sawyer couldn't see. Jack had given her something that Sawyer couldn't give her. Something she never thought she'd want, but found herself needing. Jack had given her a second chance, the opportunity to tell Sawyer. Then he'd given them the freedom they needed to go down that road.

How on earth was she supposed to just let that go?

Maybe Jack's sacrifice had been in vain, maybe she'd been wrong about what Sawyer wanted, but he'd given them the opening. She couldn't just forget that.

Couldn't forget that this time a few days ago, she'd thought that there was no hope. Wouldn't forget it.

It hurt, to be torn like this. To know that the man who cared enough to give up his freedom was locked away somewhere so she could be with the man who seemed to want nothing more with her. To know what being with James was like, and being stuck with Sawyer. To be so confused about all of it.

Coming home was supposed to make it all better. Instead it felt like everything was falling apart around her.

"Come back to camp, Kate. Tomorrow we'll get a team together and go get Jack. You know it makes sense."

"But... He saved... and..." She tried to object as Desmond gently coaxed her to turn around.

He was right, she was exhausted. So damn tired, and not in the least bit excited to stare across the beach at Sawyer. How stupid was it that she missed him already? Was everyday going to be like this, or would things get easier?

Would knowing what they could have had stop hurting?

Truthfully she didn't want to be home, didn't want to be on the same beach with him knowing what she knew.

But she let Desmond lead the way.

He left her on the beach and she headed to the shore, let her body fall to the sand, drew her knees up and watched the surf and sunset, to weary to make it back to her tent just yet.

He felt like the world's biggest prick.

He was so damn insecure when it came to her. She didn't realize just what it meant when he offered her his damn heart like some sap. Some lovesick puppy.

But she was right and he knew it.

He thought she'd been slipping away. Maybe it was easier that way, maybe he wouldn't have to change. Jack was better for her, so why did she seem to want him?

She had to know he'd just break her heart.

A few nights ago he'd been so certain. Things had been so clear. Holding her close to him, listening to her heartbeat, watching her sleep. God, he wanted it. But he couldn't have that.

And it was so much easier to blame her.

But as he made his way back to the beach, beer in hand, as he watched everyone else. Sun and Jin, Claire and Charlie, it was hard not to look for Kate. Hard not to want her next to him.

She hadn't been around, word around camp was she was already on her way to save her hero.

It stung, more than the damn dart, it pierced something inside. Not that it made a difference, but as he popped the tab on his beer, he wished she was by his side. Wished they could get drunk together, laugh and tease each other. Wished she'd follow him into his tent and claim her spot in his bed.

As much as he wanted to fight it, he knew deep down inside that no amount of convincing, was going to make him believe what he kept trying to tell himself. He wasn't better off without her, he wasn't stronger, and the empty spot next to him wasn't going to keep her safe or happy.

Hell, part of him wanted to hold her hand as he walked by everyone. Part of him wanted everyone else to know that she was his, whether he wanted her or not. Part of him wanted to tell her about what happened out in the jungle, wanted to see her face light up with laughter when he told her about Roger the work man, about Jin learning English and Hurley and Charlie's narrow escape.

"Talk to her. Convince her to wait till tomorrow. If she goes out there tonight, you won't see her again." Desmond commented as he walked by, threw the mostly empty bottle of scotch into Sawyer's lap.

"What the hell?" Sawyer snarked. "And I'm supposed to believe you see the future, eh Doc?"

"I don't care what you believe."

"Do I look like McFly to you?"

Desmond shrugged and walked off.

He shook his head in disbelief as he lifted the bottle of scotch to his lips to get the last swallow, paused mid way as his eyes caught her form. She was sitting, staring out at the damn ocean again. Her arms wrapped around her knees.

She looked so damn depressed. So fucking pitiful.

He picked up two cans of beer and stood up. He didn't have to do anything but keep her here. Charlie had told him stories, as had Hurley, maybe it was all coincidence, but he sure as hell wasn't going to test the theory.

He didn't have to tell her he was sorry, didn't have to tell her she was right. Even if he did feel that way. He just had to sit with her and keep her from running away. He could do that.

"Cheer up, Freckles, wouldn't want your face to freeze that way." He tossed out softly as he dropped the beer in her lap and sat next to her.

"Where did you find beer?" She really wanted to ask what he thought he was doing. Tell him that she didn't want him here with her. Even if she did.

"I didn't." He offered softly. He tossed his beer back quickly, watched her out of the corner of her eye as she opened her can and took a deep swig..

"This tastes like shit." She nearly spit it out and he chuckled.

"Yup." He agreed. Fascinated by the way the wind tugged at her hair, and the sunset cast a golden aura of light across the escaping wisps. In his mind he was back in his cage, his fingers tangled in her dark curls.

"And yet... Got anymore?" She questioned, turned to face him and noticed for the first time that he was somewhere else. His eyes distant and soft. That hardened look gone, replaced instead with the softer side of him.

She kept her mouth shut, terrified she'd chase him away.

Instead she watched his eyes as they traveled her face. She wished he'd touch her. Longed for his hand in hers, his lips on hers.

"I'm sorry." It came out before he could stop it. He cursed himself silently, but took it back as her face softened, and a smile tugged at the corner of her lips.

"Me too." She whispered, looked around briefly before letting her hand rest next to his in the sand between them.

He looked down at their hands and she mirrored him as he lifted his little finger slightly, brought it down on hers.

She looked away, unable to hide her smile and he felt his lips turn up as well.

He was an idiot. He almost lost this, her, and for what?

He let his finger wander over the back of her hand. Gaining courage when she didn't move away from his caress, his other fingers joined the first as he pulled her hand under his and squeezed it tightly, letting their fingers mesh together.

She kept her eyes on the ocean, the sun danced off her skin, as if it radiated from just under the surface. As if she couldn't contain it.

He finished his beer and chucked the can out into the ocean.

"Litter bug." She teased.

He stood, yanked on her hand and pulled her to her feet as well. The force of the tug caused her to crash into him as she came to her feet.

"Hey." His eyes locked on hers and she swallowed the lump in her throat as her eyes locked on his.

"Hey." She squeaked out. Her eyes warm, tempted to overflow.

She never would have pictured this. Never could have imagined a few months ago that he could make her feel like this. So absolutely dependent on him, and not caring. He was right, they did have a connection, one that had only deepened over time. One that tugged at her heart more with every little space between them.

Kate didn't want to believe in fate, she didn't want to believe that no matter what she did, this would always be the outcome. But sometimes, with him, it was hard to ignore. And as he brushed a stray lock of hair from her cheek, smiled that secret smile he reserved only for her, she wanted to believe that this would never end. If fate was real, she hoped he was hers.

Her answering smile tugged at his heart, that smile always had and probably always would. As if the corners of her lips were somehow connected with string to his heart and every upturn of those lips pulled on that string. He noticed he was still holding her hand, had it clutched to his heart and anyone watching wouldn't be able to deny that something had happened in those cages. But when she smiled like that, when her happiness spilled over into him, and her freckled cheeks beamed just for him, he didn't care who was watching.

"I've got more beer back at my tent." He murmured, took the can from her other hand and chucked it out at the ocean with his.

"That wasn't empty." She objected with a smirk of her own, knowing a proposition when she heard one and not really caring what was left in her can.

"It's gone now. Guess you'll just have to come back with me and get another one." He tossed out casually

"I guess so." Her lips quivered as she tried to look annoyed with him, tried to fight the smile that seemed so at home on her face around him. He chuckled at her efforts, she rolled her eyes and gave up fighting it.

Sawyer turned, tugged gently on her hand and she followed him back to his tent. He held the tarp back as she disappeared inside. Cast a look around the beach and noticed for the first time the eyes on him.

Hurley gave him a thumbs up. Charlie's eyes looked about ready to pop out. Sun smiled and looked away as she dragged Jin away. Desmond locked eyes with Sawyer and nodded.

Sawyer broke eye contact with Desmond and brought his focus back to the main group.

"This ain't a free show. Mind your own damn business." He tossed out gruffly before Kate grabbed his shirt and tugged him into the tent with her.


	3. Not Guilty?

**Not Guilty? by Phoebsfan**

Summary: "They'll convict her of being a good mother. They'll convict her of caring too much. But mostly they'll convict her of having the one thing they were unable to obtain themselves..." Kate oneshot on learning how to leave the 'island' behind.

Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended.

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><p>She has nothing else.<p>

It's a thought that haunts her late at night, after the world has settled into darkness. When the stillness whispers silence and she has a moment to herself, she remembers that this is all she has.

It's been three years, three long and lonely years that seem to have slipped away so quickly, at least until the sun sets. The contradiction of the passage of time, of the days that disappear and the nights that never seem to end, is puzzling. Yet when sleep should erase those hours, she finds more times than not just how fickle slumber can be.

And so she counts the days, the hours and minutes that have ticked by. Sometimes her eyes sting and her throat clogs when she reaches that final day. When she realizes just how long it has been and how much she doesn't know. They burn and bleed when she realizes she can't remember.

She has no pictures, hidden in a drawer, to pull out when his face has faded. Has no old shirt, his scent caught in the folds and creases. She has no trinkets, no movie tickets from their first date or stuffed animals won at some small town fair. She has none of the trappings, none of the usual love affair artifacts, nothing tangible. Sometimes she thinks it would be easier to move on if she had just one photo, just one saved bit of him that she could touch and know he had touched it too.

She has but her memories, faulty and fading. And a sad little boy who is not hers to love. There are days when she can forget this fact. When she can look into his blue eyes and pretend that he is hers. That his eyes are like his father's. That his father still loves them, wishes for their return.

But that is only a game she plays to alleviate the guilt of knowing just how untrue that lie is.

Most days she will look at those blue eyes and think of his mother. Waiting patiently for his return. A return that Kate herself, prays will never come to be.

Because each day she is learning to let go of the island, she is learning to forget and start a new life in her new prison. She is learning how to survive in her new cage. Trapped by circumstance, by the glamor and glitz of a well cared for existence.

She is learning, because she has to.

It is something that no one else seems to understand.

Her brief encounters with the other six have only served to confirm that. The subtle way they look away. The disgust they try to hide. They'll convict her of being a good mother. They'll convict her of caring too much. But mostly they'll convict her of having the one thing they were unable to obtain themselves.

A new life.

She knows they wonder how she can do such a thing. How she sleeps at night knowing that somewhere a mother cried for her baby. The truth is she doesn't sleep at night. Not well.

In those dark hours, she regrets it.

Everyday, she regrets what they did to leave. She regrets the lies they told and keep telling. She regrets the arms that circle her neck and whisper, 'Mommy, I love you.'

They aren't meant for her.

She doesn't want them.

But she still loves them. Loves knowing that finally someone trusts her, loves her unconditionally.

She wishes that she deserved it.

She told Jack that he had to live with it. But she envies his ability to run from it. She wants to, thinks about it everyday. But she knows that she can't. And maybe it's her own prison, but she knows she deserves far worse.

After what they did...

No one could forgive them. And she's under no illusion that anyone should.

Aaron, is her daily reminder.

It's something he would do. She often thinks about that. About the little things that he would do to remind himself just who he was and what he deserved. About his self destructive behavior, his twisted way of trying to make the world make sense. Like there were some cosmic scales to balance.

He knows now. She's sure of it. He spoke like he didn't believe there was such a thing. Like he understood just how unbalanced those scales always would be. But he didn't really believe it, if he had he would have given up trying.

But now he knows it, Knows that a million should-bes will not make up for what is. That what is will always be a hollow reminder of what could have been. And that what could have been will never be what is.

There are points, lines drawn that can never be undrawn, things that can't be taken back.

And there are unforgivable sins.

She may have walked away from murder. But the worse crime has living victims and living consequences. And those she can never hide from, neither can she face them. Just a terrible limbo of knowing and waiting. The weight only increasing with each new word from a boy's lips. Her sentence prolonged with each breath.

She doesn't know now, why any of it was so important. Can't recall why she did what she did. Doesn't understand her own reasoning. Perhaps looking back is unfair, judging so harshly after the fact, not wise. But she wishes she could take it back. Wishes that she could turn back the clock and stay in bed with him. If she had just listened to him. Just played along with him...

It would have been so easy. And hadn't she been tempted? Why hadn't she known then, what she knows now? Why did it take so much for her to finally understand what he already knew?

Coming back, only brought misery. Coming back, ruined the best thing in her life.

For a long time she could convince herself that this game, this illusion of life, could continue. That in the end nothing was going to change her way of life. But in the back of her mind, she can not shake the knowledge that this too will come to an end.

That one day the little boy she has grown to love, will no longer be hers to care for. That she will have to face the consequences of actions taken.

She has this aching hole inside that refuses to be filled, even with her little boy's dimples. He has saved her time and again, but his arms around her can never be enough, she's a fool to believe otherwise.

It's as if the color has been drained from her pictures. As if time has worn down all the edges that make life exciting and new. Each experience, each moment filtered through darkness and left dull and lifeless, much like her heart. She no longer sees in vibrant reds or sapphire blues. Beige and gray. Pastel excuses in a world that used to be jewel toned.

There are precious few exceptions to the rule. And they all have his smile.

So at night, she watches the stars as her little boy sleeps softly behind her on his bed. Watches the stars and wishes for things she can never have, and the patience to live in this new world she's created for them. She blames only herself, is finally able to come to terms with that kind of responsibility.

She thinks he would be proud of that, that she is no longer running. But this time standing her ground, even when it means she will have to lose everything in the end.

She wonders if he thinks about her. If he misses her, feels the invisible pull between them, or if he has moved on to someone else. She refuses to think he's not watching the same stars. Refuses to believe that he could be resting next to Boone or Shannon. Even though she knows it's likely.

So she'll tiptoe softly over to her son, kiss his forehead and whisper she loves him. Then she'll slide into her bed alone. She'll pull the blankets around her and try and ignore thoughts that claw at her consciousness, that sting in the stillness.

She wants to burn him out, sear his memory from her heart. To never face him again. She wants to hold on and never let go.

Mostly though she just wants to hear his voice. Even if it's only for a moment, she wants to hear the way his southern drawl wraps around her name, the one he gave her. Even when she knows that he will not approve of what she is doing.

If she dreamed, she knows it would haunt her dreams. Perhaps that's why she doesn't. Perhaps that's why when sleep finally does come in the early hours of the morning, her slumber is dark and quiet. Empty and void, imitation of life.

She never should have left him there. Tells herself repeatedly that they had no choice, and if it was the truth she wishes she could believe it. Wishes she didn't have to tell herself time and again that there was nothing to do about it. Wishes she had the guts to tell Jack she wants to go back too sometimes.

But she's vowed not to let it destroy her. Not to let any dream, or hope, ruin the life she has managed to scrape together for her son. That lie is all she has left.

She wants his life to be perfect. It's the least she can do for him. She hopes that it will be enough. That he won't grow up to hate her for not telling him from the beginning. For loving him too much. For not wanting to hurt him. In the end, if that is her only crime: being a good mother...

She can not regret it.

Once Sawyer asked her. If he thought they could play house. She'd thought he was crazy, that there was no way she could settle down and ever be happy.

Now, when she lets herself, it's all she dreams about.


	4. Perfect Timing

**Perfect Timing by Phoebsfan**

Summary: _Jack thought the clock was ugly. She wonders if he understood too well what she thought of late at night when she stood in front of the fire lovingly winding it back up, or caressing its tired wooden frame. _A response to the May Challenge, Somewhere a Clock is Ticking.

First Place winner of the "Somewhere a clock is ticking," challenge. Thanks!

Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended.

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><p>I've got this feeling that there's something that I missed<br>Don't you breathe, don't you breathe  
>Something happened, that I never understood<br>You can't leave, you can't leave  
>Every second, dripping off my fingertips<br>Wage your war, wage your war  
>Another soldier, says he's not afraid to die<br>I am scared, I'm so scared  
>In slow motion, the blast is beautiful<br>Doors slam shut, doors slam shut  
>A clock is ticking, but it's hidden far away<br>Safe and sound, safe and sound  
><em>Somewhere a Clock is Ticking- Snow Patrol<em>

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><p>There was never enough time.<p>

At home she had a clock, aged and worn, but trusty. It ticked softly from their mantle, counting down the days, hours, minutes... What it was counting down to she didn't know, just as she never knew why she was always so certain it was counting down and not up. Why was it not collecting seconds instead of spending them?

Until perhaps now, when that clock was so far away from her and her life was passing before her.

It had never mattered quite so much as now.

Much of her life has been wasted on pondering those stupid little things. The collection of time on a mantle meant so little now. She wishes she hadn't misspent any of that precious commodity.

For example, why he jumped was not so important in the reality of day to day. All that mattered was that he was gone and she would not see him again. There was no time.

So much of her time had been wasted on a question she would never have an answer to.

Late at night when she could not sleep, when Jack snored too loud. Or the room grew too small. The air too heavy. The bed too hard. She found herself staring at that clock on her mantle counting down the minutes, a little too often. Her fingertips knew its smooth surface, like her heart knew its own beat.

And his.

The antique wood gleamed beautifully in the dim light and the loving attention.

Like him.

It was hardly something she had noticed in the beginning. When she'd first acquired the clock it had been because it would look good on the mantle, because she had the money now. Because... well she doesn't really remember all the reasons. All she knows is that she has spent way too many hours in front of it, wishing the night away. Too many hours wasted on dreaming up her return.

It was the only time she let herself wonder what could have been.

And her dreams never could have passed as reality. She'd been far too generous back then. Reality was cold, hard and bitter. It left her as it always did.

Alone.

She doesn't know when she replaced the reasons for visiting that clock, when it became a link to him... The only important part is that when she missed him she found herself in front of that clock counting down, looking back. Wondering why such a short period of time, a brief collection of days, had left such an impact on her.

It wasn't till she returned to the Island that she remembered.

There was never any time. What time they had back then, had been all the more precious because of it.

Jack thought the clock was ugly. She wonders if he understood too well what she thought of late at night when she stood in front of the fire lovingly winding it back up, or caressing its tired wooden frame.

It's silly, she thinks, to have become so attached to a clock. But it was so dependable, so constant. It kept her from flying apart sometimes. When Aaron was too much to handle, when she had had a particularly ugly argument with Jack, its familiar tick kept her going. She could trust it to keep ticking. To greet her on the hour, every hour, with a happy chime. To stay steady in times of crisis. It always had her back.

And now... it was thousands of miles away and she would probably never see her 'home' again.

Heaven knew that if ever she needed the reassuring tick of that clock, it was now. Now when she's back on the island.

Back in time.

With only fifteen minutes left.

She thinks it's even sillier now, to still dwell on a clock. Wonders if perhaps it is to keep her mind occupied in these last few moments.

In a few weeks, thousands of miles from here, she would be born.

It was a strange but humbling thought. Knowing that somewhere out there, another her would be coming into the world, destined to live the same life. Go through the same pains. The same joys. Somewhere out there a clock would be ticking down her life. So many days until this. Whatever this was.

One way or another, she wouldn't be around for the event.

Because there was never any time on the Island.

She wants to talk about this, about the emptiness of her arms and the lack of a small blond boy's attention.

About the fear that she won't ever see him again, that this won't work. That he won't know her, even if perhaps that is for the best.

She wants to talk about how finding him here with her still hurt. How his nickname for her still stirs something inside.

How they never had enough time.

How none of it mattered anyway.

She wants to be able to run to her clock and know that everything is still in order. The universe still functioned the way it was supposed to. Time still ticked by at the same pace it always did.

But she doesn't even have that.

What she does have is eight hundred and thirty-two seconds to say goodbye to everything she's ever known or cared about. Because in eight hundred and thirty-three seconds she will either be dead, or on a plane back to her old life.

In the end she couldn't get on the sub with them. She didn't belong out there any more than she belonged here. If the Incident killed her, perhaps that was just the way it was supposed to be. If Jack changed things, then getting on a sub and leaving the Island wasn't going to change the fact that she'd be back on that plane in cuffs in almost no time at all.

What she could do was give him up. She could give Juliet that at least. He wasn't hers and she had not come back to the Island to get him back. Even if a part of her still loved him, it didn't change the fact that not going with them was the right choice.

So she sat on the water's edge, not far from where the sub left mere moments ago. Just far enough, with just enough obstructions so that she could not see the departure. She was only human after all. Watching them go would have been too much for her.

She is terrified of what is before her. She almost hopes that it doesn't work. That she will be engulfed in the warm welcome of black death. She's scared she'll remember this life, all the people she learned to love and care for. At the same time terrified she'll forget them.

But once more... none of that mattered. Time was... well it was over.

She pulled her knees to her chest, rested her chin on them.

Thirteen minutes.

There was a rustle in the bushes to her right. She pulled her gun and waited patiently. She wasn't going down early, that was for certain.

"There you are. C'mon, let's get out of here."

She couldn't believe her eyes. He was standing right in front of her. But he was supposed to be on the sub with Juliet. He was supposed to go and not look back.

"We couldn't leave you here, Freckles." He held his hand out to her to help her up. She hesitated. "Now! We don't have time to hang around!"

"There never is." She sighed and took his hand. He pulled her to her feet and took off running back in the direction of the sub. What surprised her, however, was that he didn't let go of her hand.

She should let go, definitely before they got back to the sub. But it was comforting, running beside him, connected. It had been so long since she felt connected to anyone.

As they reached the dock he stopped suddenly and she slammed into him.

"Damn!" He swore and dropped her hand. She followed his line of sight to the end of the dock and the sub disappearing under the water. Too far away.

"I'm sorry..." She murmured. This wasn't how it was supposed to be. She left them so they could be together, not so he could come after her and miss the sub.

He spun around so his back was to her, his eyes toward the sky.

"I think I knew she was saying goodbye when she told me to come find you. I think she has been for awhile now." He sighed.

"You shouldn't have come back for me." Kate almost whispered. She wanted him to, she'd needed him to. But at this cost? She hated that she was a little glad not to be alone. Hated that she was relieved he was here with her in the end.

"How could I not?" He spun back around to face her, the conflict written in his creased brow. He still loved her, he probably always would. And when Juliet had offered to wait while he went for her, he'd for one moment thought that she understood. Perhaps she did, perhaps that's why she left. She knew he could never choose between them.

"I don't know. God, Sawyer I..." She threw her hands down, turned her head to the side.

He stepped closer to her and grabbed her wrists.

"Are you scared?" He asked softly and she turned her head to face him.

Never enough time.

"Terrified." She admitted with tears building in her eyes. He pulled her to his chest. She pushed against him.

"Juliet- I won't do this to her." She objected to the comfort of his arms. To finding herself exactly where she needed to be.

"She left, Freckles." He paused, all of the time they'd spent together flashing in front of his eyes. "...and yeah, I love her. But she isn't here." And she never would be again, suprisingly he was comforted in the fact that she had gotten away. There was peace in knowing that she would find happiness without him. He was not essential to her wellbeing and he never had been.

"...She made her choice. We have ten minutes left before everything changes. Just... don't fight me." He ran his finger down the side of her face and under her chin to force her to look at him. "There isn't enough time."

He wished things could be different. Wished that this wasn't the end. That he had figured out what Juliet knew from the moment Kate walked back into his life. A part of him wished that it wasn't true even. That he could be back on that sub with Juliet where things were less complicated, less painful, less colorful. Safe.

But he wasn't. And there wasn't any part of him that could deny how nice it was to have her back in his arms again. There wasn't time to play that game. No extra seconds stored away for subterfuge. Only the truth, brilliant in the light of the dwindling day.

"I know." This time she did cry. For him. For her. For everything they'd lost. For every missed opportunity. For all the words that had never been spoken. "Why did you come back?"

He didn't really know the answer to her question, and it wasn't important. She'd be gone from his arms soon and he didn't want to waste time trying to figure out what his heart always knew. She knew the answer already.

"I don't know, Kate. " He sighed. "It's not important." She buried her face in his chest.

Even in the end she wanted answers to questions she didn't need to ask. Words meant so little, the fact that he had returned to her spoke more than anything he could ever say. But there were still words she needed to speak. Words she'd never spoken and he deserved to hear,

"I love you. I never said it, and I should have." She murmured and he pressed her close.

He smiled, his heart warm with her love.

"I know. I love you too." He kissed the crown of her head.

She still smelled the same, her hair that same fine silk, her warm curves so familiar. He let himself breathe her in for a second. Collecting each freckle, cataloging every angle and plane of her soft skin. The way muscle and bone met. So that his fingertips would know her smooth surface like his heart knew it's own beat. With the rhythm of her heart, beating so perfectly in time, he could measure the moments by it.

After a brief pause, silent and full of wonder, he caught her face in his hands and guided her eyes to his.

"Tell me about it." It didn't matter what she said as long as she said something. He needed to hear her voice, listen to her fears. Soothe her troubled mind if he could.

She smiled sadly. There was so much to tell, so she decided to start at the beginning, with the fear that weighed so heavily on her now, she thought she'd collapse under the weight.

"I killed a man, you knew that. He was my father. That's why I was on that plane. That's what I'm going back to... but even with all that... it's not..."

"That's not what bothers you the most." He interrupted, knowing what she was getting to. The very thing that bothered him.

"No... It's not..." She smiled weakly. "Forget it, we have seven minutes and this is all gone." She sighed and looked away. He caught her cheek and turned her sad green eyes back to his.

"That's the part that bothers you."

With all the things they could talk about, all the secrets she'd kept, or truths undiscovered, they mattered so little in that moment.

She placed her hand on his cheek.

"You too."

"Freckles..." His sigh was heavy as he nodded in agreement.

He had so many things to tell her. So many wrongs to right.

"I thought I loved Cass, once. But she's right, I was a coward. That's not why I jumped though. I needed you to be safe. I needed you to be happy. Kate, I would have done anything."

She sniffled loudly, half laughter, half tears.

"I know." She rested her head against his chest for a moment. "I know. I've always... known." She pulled back to face him again. "Do me a favor?"

"Anything."

"Find your daughter. Be her father. You'd make a wonderful dad. I know how scary it is..."

"Don't Kate, don't say goodbye." He interrupted, his eyes were full as hers continued to spill over. "I just got you back."

"There's never enough" She started. "...time." He finished.

She smiled.

"I always knew you'd break my heart." He smiled.

"In five minutes you won't remember my name." He kissed her forehead.

"Not possible, Freckles."

"Do you regret any of it? Is this the ending you'd prefer?" She asked, searched his eyes for an answer.

"What I regret is not having this conversation when it would have done us some good. Not being able to wipe that doubt and fear from your face. What I regret is not being able to share enough of the good times with you. And the ending I'd prefer... Kate, I don't know what I want. But I do know that not ever knowing you..." He drifted off, brought one finger up to trace her lips. "...never kissing you...never holding you..." His other arm wrapped around her waist and pulled her tight. "...never loving you... those are things I never wanted. You were the one who started this. You made me look at myself... Kate, I'm a better man for knowing you."

"I kept him because of you..." She admitted. Sawyer looked at her confused.

"Aaron. I couldn't let him go. Not after everything. He  
>was my connection to you. He was my everything for three years. I loved him like he was mine, and sometimes... I'd wish he was yours too."<p>

"Oh Kate... You don't need to..." He tried to pull her closer but she resisted.

"No, let me finish..." He nodded for her to continue. "I never wanted to be a mother, but you gave me that chance even though you never intended to. It was also because of you that I gave him up. He wasn't mine to keep, he never would be and holding on to him to fill the hole you left in my life... I'd always be looking over my shoulder and expecting the worst. And even though I never thought I'd see you again... I knew I couldn't look you in the eye if I didn't. So I grew up too."

"I'd have to be blind not to notice. You've turned into an amazing woman, Freckles. Someone I'll never forget... It's almost time." He murmured softly into her hair.

"I know."

But surprisingly it was enough. She didn't need confessions of love, or secrets spilled out. She just needed him as he was. The fear was gone, he always made it better. Even as the clock ticked down the last few moments.

"Thank you... I'll never love anyone like I loved you, James."

He leaned in and rested his forehead against hers. He would miss her, even if he didn't remember. Miss the way her lips turned up in a smirk, or the way the light bounced off her curls. It didn't matter what it was about her, he just knew that part of him would always be where she was.

"Let's do this right for once." He mumbled before closing the gap between them.

"Freckles." He whispered against her lips.

"I would have kissed you without the con." She whispered back.

He kissed her softly.

"You still taste like strawberries."

"Fish biscuits." She teased.

"I'll show you fish biscuits..." She giggled and then he stole her breath away with his lips.

Everything went black.

* * *

><p>He has a clock, it sits on his mantle. His daughter, Clementine, gave it to him for Father's Day a few years back. It's one of those older models, antique, tired and worn.<p>

But it keeps perfect time...

Almost like the beat of a heart.


	5. Sleepwalking

**Sleepwalking by Phoebsfan**

Summary: The group seemed to be divided between those who couldn't close their eyes, and those who refused to open them. Random scene post season 5. Dark.

Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended.

* * *

><p>The dew collected around them, falling silently on each blade of grass. The tired scraps of blanket, a backpack here, or a water bottle there. Accompanied only by the dim light of the moon as it lurked behind a bush, or slivered between branches. Insects chirping, an occasional rustle as someone tossed in their sleep, or an animal scurried away from the encampment.<p>

Her eyes were glued to the glow of the flames. The fire burning in the midst of the weary group.

Sayid was on watch, and every once in awhile he'd poke at the flames, inspiring new life or prodding them on forcing them to continue on their never ceasing path of destruction. Kate couldn't decide which. Hopeless was probably too complex an emotion to assign to a simple chemical reaction. But as it seemed to be the general feeling that hung over all their heads at the moment, it had become a common attribute of most anything.

She couldn't sleep.

Hadn't in days.

She wasn't the only one though. The group seemed to be divided between those who couldn't close their eyes, and those who refused to open them. Consequently, most of them walked around in a near dream state. Dazed and simply going through the motions for lack of anything else to do.

She was tired of pretending she was still among the living. Wanted only to cross over into that group who refused to wake up. Desperately longed for the oblivion of sleep. To close her eyes and forget for just a moment.

Wrapping her arms around herself, she closed her eyes and tried counting.

One... One inch further and she could have reached.

Two... The two of them reaching down that pit...

Three... Three days later... years... weeks... Who even knew anymore?

Four... God, she wished she could forget.

Five... More minutes of this and she might lose it entirely.

Counting never worked.

Nothing worked. And now she was here and everything was broken.

She caught her lower lip in her teeth and bit back the scream inside. Hugged her arms tighter. The chill of the night creeping under her clothes and resting against her skin. Encasing her in a numb, frosty cocoon.

She opened her eyes. Her teeth cutting into her lip.

He was watching... or not.

She couldn't tell with him anymore.

He belonged to the other group now. The group that wouldn't wake up.

Trapped in his own hell. A silent, motionless hell. One no one seemed to be able to wake him from.

When Juliet had disappeared down that pit. He might as well have gone with her.

She bit down harder at the ache inside as it twisted her heart into a tiny knot.

His eyes were cold and empty but she met them with her own. Stared passed the fire and the huddled group. Tried to erase the distance between them or draw him out.

He turned his head away and something inside snapped.

The scream that had been clawing at her throat for days transformed into something else. It choked her as her eyes filled, then silently overflowed to join the dew on the ground.

It hadn't worked.

People died.

They were going nowhere.

There was nothing left.

And watching them... no, watching him fall apart...

It was too much.

So she rolled over and closed her eyes.

Her back to the fire.

To them. The stupid group of people that had become her second family. Who refused to wake up or go to damn sleep.

To him. The only man who could ever break her heart so utterly completely without doing a thing. The only person whose anguish she was willing to adopt if it meant she'd hear that drawl or see that smirk. If even for a second it could make him forget.

She needed... she needed...

Sleep.

Comfort.

Dreams.

But all she would get would be a fire, too far away. Too long forgotten. But it's memory still on her skin whenever he caught her eye. A silent blanket of mist. A heavy and tired heart. And the aching stillness. The unbearable aching stillness.

She was not asking for his love. She did not deserve it or want it.

But she might need her best friend back.

He could not even look at her. Even in his near catatonic state.

She hated this place.

This island. This godforsaken island that made everything on it crazy.

She wanted to scream again. Could taste blood on her lip where she bit a little too hard and pierced the skin.

Blood and tears.

That's all the island ever wanted.

She was crazy. Delirious with that desperate darkness that demanded to take control.

Craved oblivion. The ache inside asking for erasure. Begging to be blinded. Shouting for silence.

She held her breath.

Willed herself to stop breathing. Stop functioning. To just stop.

Her lungs screamed louder than her will, and as things got hazy and dizzy, air rushed passed her lips in a barely audible gasp.

No, she could not even control that.

* * *

><p>She stood by him. Even when he shut her out.<p>

Always hovering just out of reach.

Waiting.

He could not give her anything.

Why didn't she understand that?

Everything he was went down that hole.

He had nothing left for her.

But he could not watch her suffer.

So he looked away.

It was cold.

It was late.

And he knew her well enough to know she wasn't sleeping.

How long had it been?

Days... weeks? Did it matter?

He heard her shift away and risked a look through the corner of his eye.

Her back was to him. Those thin arms wrapped around herself.

He fingered the blanket draped over him. She'd done that.

She'd given him her blanket, her warmth, and then walked away. Placing the distance he expected from her between them. Following his silent rules.

Because she'd known it was what he needed.

He stared at her back, wishing he was man enough to give her something.

He knew she didn't need much. She never had.

Her back moved up and down in quick little pants and he knew...

She was crying.

Alone.

He hated himself even more.

He glanced around, taking the camp in for the first time.

Everyone huddled around a fire in the middle of the jungle.

It wasn't a camp. It was a pit stop.

Exhaustion had claimed most of them, and even the dew settling around them and the chill air could not arouse them from their slumber. There were a few fitful sleepers, and a couple pretending sleep as well, but even they could not be disturbed from their own thoughts.

It looked as if they'd all simply dropped where they stopped walking. Cut off from reality and each other.

He'd hoped someone would be aware of her suffering. That someone would do something.

And for a moment he'd thought he might get his wish, as Sayid turned his head and glanced briefly at Kate. But he too, seemed too busy with his own misery to offer comfort to anyone else.

A fire burned in the pit of his stomach.

Sayid owed her. His life had been saved when the sky flashed. The least he could do was to offer her comfort.

Couldn't they tell how much she needed it?

Sawyer wished Hurley was awake. He'd know what to do. At the very least he could have gotten him to give Kate her blanket back. If it came from Hurley it would be alright. He just couldn't give it to her himself.

She shivered and pulled her knees closer to her chest.

He swallowed and sat up.

Maybe if he tossed a rock in his direction. Sawyer contemplated doing just that as he stared at Hurley's sleeping form a few feet away, but decided that it would cause too much noise and that she'd look over at them. He wouldn't be able to secretly give Hurley the blanket to give to her, if she was watching the whole thing.

No, he was going to have to be a man about it, or go back to sleep.

He laid back down and turned his back to her.

He was more awake than he had been in days.

Every little sniffle echoed in his ears. He'd give her credit for being almost deathly silent, but his guilty conscious couldn't shut out anything. Deafening him with the reality that lay not ten feet from him.

Maybe he could just stand up, walk over, and drop the blanket by her, then come back.

At least then he might be able to go back to sleep and stop worrying about how cold she must be.

He could do that.

He could just walk over there and come back, and it would be alright.

So he stood and softly crept to the other side of the fire. Sayid's eyes followed him for only a moment before turning back to the flames in front of him. When Sawyer reached her side he paused. She had not heard him approach and he knew he should drop the blanket and quickly retreat, but as his eyes caught hold of her closed ones and her cheeks wet with tears he found himself unable to move.

She looked like he felt inside. And she had no one hovering at her side to take care of her.

No one to make sure she ate. Cover her with a blanket at night. Watch over her to make sure she slept.

He sunk to his knees behind her.

He watched her chest still as she held her breath.

He held his too.

They let go together, and he knew in that moment that she needed him more than he needed her to stay away.

* * *

><p>There was movement behind her. She quickly wiped at her eyes, as a familiar blanket descended over her and a distant memory wrapped his arm around her waist. His chest against her back, her first response was to try and move away.<p>

His arm pulled her flat against him and he drawled softly in her ear.

"Don't move."

She obeyed. Held her breath and silently counted the seconds.

"Breathe." He coaxed softly.

She must have fallen asleep.

She must be dreaming.

But she took a deep breath anyway. Then followed it with another. And another.

"I'm awake now, Freckles. It's your turn to sleep."

And so for the first time in days... weeks? She did.


	6. Still Looking For Life

**Still Looking For Life by Phoebsfan**

Summary: Post Ep for 6x14 The Candidate  
>Kate and Sawyer share a few moments on the beach.<p>

Story Notes:

Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended.

* * *

><p>The broken clock is a comfort, it helps me sleep tonight<br>Maybe it can stop tomorrow from stealing all my time  
>I am here still waiting though I still have my doubts<br>I am damaged at best, like you've already figured out

I'm falling apart, I'm barely breathing  
>With a broken heart that's still beating<br>In the pain there is healing  
>In your name I find meaning<p>

The broken locks were a warning you got inside my head  
>I tried my best to be guarded, I'm an open book instead<br>And I still see your reflection inside of my eyes  
>That are looking for purpose, they're still looking for life<p>

I'm falling apart, I'm barely breathing  
>With a broken heart that's still beating<br>In the pain is the healing  
>In your name I find meaning<br>So I'm holdin' on, I'm holdin' on, I'm holdin' on  
>I'm barely holdin' on to you<p>

I'm hangin' on another day  
>Just to see what you will throw my way<br>And I'm hangin' on to the words you say  
>You said that I will, will be ok<p>

The broken lights on the freeway left me here alone  
>I may have lost my way now, having forgot my way home<p>

I'm falling apart, I'm barely breathing  
>With a broken heart that's still beating<br>In the pain is there is healing  
>In your name I find meaning<br>So I'm holdin' on, I'm holdin' on, I'm holdin' on  
>I'm barely holdin' on to you<br>So I'm holdin' on, I'm holdin' on, I'm holdin' on

**Broken- Lifehouse**

* * *

><p>He could feel the sunlight dance across his heavy eyelids. Warm, but not welcoming. A harsh reminder that he needed to wake up, that something wasn't right. His next thought was that he must have overdone it the night before, his head was pounding like a frieght train running through his brain. His throat raw and his mouth dry... and distinctly salty. Like maybe he'd swallowed half the ocean... ocean...<p>

He bolted up, his eyes screaming as the midday sun assaulted them. His head spinning from the abrupt movement. His heart pounding as he searched the horizon frantically.

_There was a bomb._

He was sitting in the sand not far from the ocean. A small campfire burned closeby.

_The sub._

The sky was mostly overcast, the sun only breaking through the cloud cover every now and then as memories of what had happened the night before rushed back to him with a harsh and unforgiving sting.

_Kate._

God, not her too.

"Easy there. You're giving me whiplash just watching you."

Her voice was quiet and pained, and came from just behind him.

Not her. She was ok.

His heart settled in his chest as worry started to close around his lungs.

She wasn't ok, they were on a damn island. She had a bullet in her shoulder and a freaking mad man out to get her. Not to mention his crazed follower. He was going to get her off, she was going to be safe away from all of them. Then this happened.

Damn it all to hell.

She could see the concern cloud his features.

"It went straight through. I'll be fine... You were." She placated. "How's your head?"

He groaned as her words sunk in and the fear retreated just enough to remind him. He probably shouldn't have sat up so fast.

She had been laying perpendicular to him, her head in the sand just behind his, their bodies angled around the campfire. He could see the vauge scattered imprints of two other bodies in the sand, completing the ring.

"Hurts like hell. How's your shoulder?" He groaned slightly as he settled back down in the sand. It seemed to help with the dark spots that had begun to dance across his vision and the ringing in his ears.

"About the same."

He smiled. Why it amused him, he didn't know. Maybe it was just the fact that she could sit there and talk about it like it was nothing. Maybe it was the feelings of friendship, that closeness they'd always had. Things had been good between them lately.

They laid in silence for awhile and then he shifted his feet away from the campfire, turning to lie parallel to her. His face about a foot from her's.

"Where is everyone?"

She hesitated a moment before answering, and when she finally spoke it was so soft he almost couldn't hear her.

"Jack went to look for some supplies and Hurley said he'd be back shortly. He didn't mention where he was going..."

She bit her lip and closed her eyes. His fingers itched to brush across her closed lids and coax them open. To offer some kind of comfort to her.

He didn't have to ask about everyone else. He supposed he knew it from the moment he woke up. It was only clarified by the way her body stiffened, as she drew in a deep breath.

"Everyone else?" He asked anyway. Some part of him needed it confirmed with the awful words. But he couldn't bring himself to use names.

Her eyes swam with tears that threatened to spill over. She swallowed back emotion.

His hand moved unbidden to trace her cheekbone. It seemed those unseen powers of hers still exsisted. Her ability to draw him to her in a physical way, when he saw the sadness in her. The need to touch away her tears. To connect with her on the most basic level.

"Gone." She whispered shakily.

"I'm sorry. I should have... God Freckles, I'm sorry." He sighed.

She moved her uninjured hand up and held his hand against her cheek. The tension drained from her body.

"Not your fault."

But it was. He felt it in his gut. If he'd just trusted Jack, maybe they wouldn't be in this mess. Maybe Jack was right. Maybe he'd killed them. If he hadn't been so determined to do things his way. Maybe she wouldn't have been shot.

"It's not." She whispered again. Looking right through him. Her sparkling green eyes offering absolution. "You didn't do anything wrong."

He shook his head, leaned his forehead against hers. If only it were so easy. If only she really could make it all go away with a word or two.

"If I hadn't..."

She transferred her hand from on top of his, to rest on his cheek. Her touch so soothing. He wondered sometimes if it was like this for her too. If his hand on her cheek, or his arm around her waist, eased that ache deep inside, ever so slightly. He hoped that it did, and could almost believe that it had in the past.

"If I hadn't..." she whispered back at him, countering his own. "The truth is, none of us could have known. If you want to take responsibility for it, then we all have to take responsibility for it. It's never going to be one person's fault."

He sighed and tried to pull away, but she wrapped her other hand around his neck and held him close.

"I'm sorry, too. I'm sorry I was such a fool back when it mattered."

"Freckles..." He released his hold on her, and pried her hands from around his neck. He couldn't hear this. Not now, maybe not ever.

Things were good between them. There was no need to muddy the waters now. Especially when neither of them knew if they'd be around tomorrow.

He rolled on his back and watched the clouds. She knew she was losing him. Things were harder now. It was near impossible sometimes to tell what would set him off. Though she supposed she was no picnic either. She wondered had she been honest and open with him three years ago, if she'd have run into similar walls. They never really talked about things back then. She never wanted to. Now she found the words always wanting to slip from her tongue. It was hard to remember to bite them back sometimes. Hard to remember that he wasn't ready to talk. That trying only caused him to withdraw.

"That's all. I just... I guess I thought you should know. I understand, you know." She tried to awkwardly bridge the gap.

He didn't think she could understand. But he didn't want to argue with her about it. So instead he continued to stare at the clouds and hope that she'd drop it.

He still didn't speak and she wondered what possessed her to continue. Perhaps it was the three years between them. Maybe she just couldn't stand the thought of leaving things unsaid. Something had changed in their dynamic, something that made her feel safe. She'd always known he have her back. That he could be counted on in a tight spot. But since they'd reunited, she felt safe in other ways. Like maybe he could keep her secrets as well.

"I didn't have any expectations. I don't have any now either. I loved someone with all my heart. I came back to do right by him. Even if that meant I'd never get to tuck him in at night again, or read him his favorite story. That's all. But I missed this, too. Your friendship is unlike any other I've ever had."

He sat up slowly, this time the world stayed right where it was supposed to. He didn't know what to do with her words. He still didn't think she could understand just what he'd lost, but he knew she'd come closer than any of the others had. He'd known that from the moment he saw her again. Been able to read through the lines and see the sadness that followed her like a heavy, dark cloud. It rested in every hollow of her body, graced every movement, and colored every conversation. Always lurking behind her, waiting. At first he'd mistaken it for grief at her failed attempt at a relationship with Jack. But time had proven to him that Jack had nothing to do with it.

It wasn't until he'd seen her plead with Claire, the woman who had tried to kill her, that he finally knew just where it had come from. He had to admit to being somewhat surprised by it. She had changed. He supposed he'd known that from that first hug as well, but couldn't admit to it then.

Even before he'd known why she wore her grief so silently, he'd known that he needed to be with her though. Even when he'd wanted her to stay far away from him, he'd known that eventually she was the only one who could make the pain bearable. The only one he would even think about sharing his silence with. Perhaps that's why he'd pushed her so far away. Maybe he'd been trying to ignore the inevitable. Or more likely spit at it.

It wasn't just her pain that drew him to her. His did just as good a job of it. Deny it as he might, she gave him the strength to go on when he was without a reason. Life was better when he had her by his side.

He wrapped his arms around his knees and watched the waves.

"James, if I don't..." Her voice distant, weighing her future, and the likelyhood of her not making it out of this.

He turned around in a flash. Anger in his eyes and on every line of his face. She wasn't even going to think like that.

"No." He stated simply.

"But.." Her eyes watered, and he felt the pressure build in his as he met them with a cold stare.

"No."

She looked away first. That lower lip of hers finding it's place, worried between her teeth. There was a very real possibility that infection would set in. She was no stranger to what that looked like. They'd almost lost Sawyer to his gunshot wound. There was no telling when or if they'd have to run again, or if Jack would be able to find any kind of medical supplies. It was foolish not to think about it. To at least weight it as a possibility.

But his stare told her that nothing but survival was an option for her. As if his will alone could determine it.

He slid over to her in the sand and gently pulled her upper body into his lap. His right arm rested across her stomach, and her hands came up to cling to it. His left hand brushed the hair from her face, and the tears from her cheeks. He drew the worry that gnawed at her stomach from her skin with his rough fingertips. She wondered how he always seemed to be able to soothe that inner tormoil with just a touch.

"No." He whispered, gently this time. "I missed you too damn much to lose you now. So you better get any of those ugly thoughts out of that pretty head of yours, Freckles."

She giggled, then grimaced as her shoulder jostled against his knee. Somehow the pain that shot through her wounded shoulder seemed less real when he held her close and whispered that he missed her. He made the whole thing more bearable.

"Go to sleep." He ordered. "I'm not gonna feed you mashed up fruit and play nurse like you did. I won't be nearly as good at it. So you better get yourself some sleep and get better fast."

"Yes Sir." She mocked then closed her eyes.

"Damn straight." He brushed her hair back. The vibrations from his words, resonating inside of her hollowness, filling in some of the space.

She opened one eye.

"Shut up. I'm trying to sleep." She smirked. She hoped he never stopped talking. There was something calming about his voice.

"You just wait until it's time for your physical therapy, young lady."

She laughed, flashing a smile. The one that lit up the darkest corners of his heart.

And for the first time in a long time he felt it.

Whole.

Yeah... he missed this.


End file.
